Kho Kho Kho!
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon is stuck in a real tight spot with an assignment, thanks to his partner.
1. Getting even

Napoleon was known for flying by the seat of his pants when it came to strategizing. The word ' **improvise'** appealed to him; yes improvisation was the best course of action most of the time, much to the consternation of his sometimes stubborn partner.

Solo worked great under pressure, and oft times it resulted in some of his best work. This time however, he had no idea what to do. Nothing, nada; he was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

He held up the wardrobe required for the assignment and simply shook his head. How did he get himself into this mess? Why couldn't someone else do it instead of him. Not that he was one to shirk his duty but his way of thinking, it was a little bit above and beyond was was required of and UNCLE agent.

"Nichego," he repeated the word 'nothing in Russian. Somehow he knew this was all Illya's fault, he he was positive. It wasn't the first time Kuryakin had weaseled himself out of a tight spot, dumping it right in Napoleon's lap.

There was that time on the island of Circe when that woman Angela wanted a husband. When she picked him and not Illya; he could see the apparent glee in Illya's eyes. And of course his comments encouraging the girl after her choice didn't help at all.* Knowing that crafty Russian, he probably told the girl something...somehow to get himself off her radar like informing her insanity ran in his family. Illya had used that line before.

Napoleon looked around for Kuryakin but there wasn't hide nor hare of him to be seen anywhere.

Solo swore then, he'd somehow get even with Illya for this one.

There was no recourse but to change his clothes in resignation, and looking at himself in the mirror, making what adjustments he could, he sighed.

Aunt Amy had always told him no matter what the situation, there was no excuse for a man to not look his best, though he doubted she'd approve of this look. All he could do was give his hair one last comb before he placed his hat on his head.

As he walked out to where is new partner waited for this affair, Napoleon looked down at his shoe; they were making noise.

He shook his head with a sniff.

"Ah Mister Solo there you are," Alexander Waverly called to him. He was hard to miss dressed in his attire. There was a brightness in his eyes as he beckoned his senior agent to accompany him into the main room of the club where the members awaited them.

It was Waverly's gentleman's club where he would often go for a game of chess or to socialize with his acquaintances, but today there was something special, something different was going on.

He was playing the part of Father Christmas for the grandchildren of the club members. It was an annual affair and Alexander was asked to take a turn several years ago where in he gladly obliged. He'd been doing it ever since.

Dressed in the traditional red velvet Santa Claus suit; he adjusted his flowing white beard preparing to make his entrance with a hearty, and well rehearsed "HO-HO-HO!"

Behind him dressed in a **green** and red elf costume and carrying Santa's red velvet sack filled with wrapped gifts, was the U.N.C.L.E. CEA, and he wasn't happy at all.

Appearing out of nowhere and sneaking up behind Napoleon; the Russian whispered in his ear.

"Nice tights, though they look a little snug. I would not bend over in that outfit if I were you."

Napoleon's face turned beet red. "I'm going to get you for this Kuryakin."

Nonplussed, the blond cocked an eyebrow as he smiled. "My friend, where is your Christmas spirit? You need to smile for the little children. They are waiting for you to hand their gifts to Grandfather Christmas."

"Here he's Santa Claus," Napoleon sniggered. "And as far as my Christmas spirit is concerned...it's in an unopened bottle of Cutty Sark waiting for me in our office. A nice little gift from my Secret Santa."

"Oh yes, I received a bottle of _Kubanskaya_ vodka myself. I am liking this Secret Santa thing," Illya nodded his approval.

Napoleon smiled. "Glad you liked it. It wasn't easy to get you know."

"You are my Secret Santa?" Illya's inability to discover who it was frustrated him, and this announcement came as a bit of a surprise.

"Yeah, but right now I'm not sure if you deserve it."

"Sorry you feel that way Napoleon; I will return it to you then, but then you should give your bottle of scotch to me. I still have the receipt and can return it."

"Wait... you?"

" _Da."_ Illya's blue eyes twinkled.

"Nope tovarisch, there's no givebacks," Napoleon pointed his finger at the Russian, " but, next year you get this gig and that's final."

"Ahem,"Waverly cleared his throat."Mr. Solo if you could finish your conversation later. We have a job to do."

"Yes sir, coming."

Illya watched in amusement as the great Napoleon Solo scurried after their boss with the bells on his curly -whirly shoes jingling away. It was quite a sight.

He covered his mouth to stifle a laugh as he watched his partner pulling at the back of his tights, trying to adjust them.

" _Kho-kho-kho,_ " Illya snickered in Russian.

He'd switched out the tights to a much smaller pair. Payback to a similar prank Napoleon had pulled on him some time ago while they were on assignment at a Renaissance Festival...in costume.**

.

* ref to "THE DEADLY GODDESS AFFAIR SEASON 2/EP 17'

** ref to my story "A Renning We Will go"


	2. revenge,, Solo style

Illya knew Napoleon's retribution was forthcoming; he just didn't expect it so soon.

It wasn't even Christmas, and given Solo's love of the holiday, Illya was sure he was safe until after January 7th, the Russian holiday.

But no, he was wrong, very wrong…

Kuryakin looked down at his left wrist that had been handcuffed to the arm of his office chair and gave it a yank in frustration.

Napoleon sat across from him in his own chair, wearing a rather smug look on his face.

"Payback's a bi…"

 _"_ _Stoi! Pozhaluysta?_ " Illya begged him to please stop.

"After what you did to me the other day? I think not," Napoleon grinned.

"Not only did you fix it so I had to wear that damned elf costume at Waverly's Gentleman's club, you switched out the tights to an extra small...I'm still chafed from them. ***** So now you pay the price tovarisch."

"Napoleon," Illya tugged as the handcuff again." Did I not promise I would play the elf next year for Mr. Waverly?"

"And so you did, but that's not enough." Napoleon began to warble away, singing in his off key voice.

"Hey! Chingedy ching,hee-haw, hee-haw. It's Dominick the ching, hee-haw, hee-haw,The Italian Christmas donkey. La la la-la la-la la la la la! La la la-la la-la la-ee-oh-da!"

In front of his was a small victrola, and playing on it was a 45 record of Lou Monte, singing Dominick the Donkey.

Illya didn't know which was worse, the recording or Napoleon singing along with it. He finally leaned forward, hitting his forehead on his desk again and again. Stopping suddenly, Kuryakin reached inside his black jacket, he drew his Special from its holster.

"Whoa!" Napoleon yelled "Don't shoot! I'll stop."

He grabbed the tone arm, dragging it across the 45 with a scratch.

"I am not going to shoot you, I am going to shoot myself and end my misery. _Do svidaniya!"_ Illya held the gun to his temple."

"Illya, oh my God, STOP!" Napoleon yelled as he dove towards his partner. "I'm sorry, don't!"

In the struggle, the gun went off with a pop. Revealing a little brightly colored paper umbrella sticking out of the barrel. A left over novelty from 'The Cherry Blossom Affair."

Napoleon fell to the floor, his heart pounding. He didn't know whether to laugh or strangle the crazy Russian.

Illya, in the meantime, had pickpocketed the key from Solo's jacket pocket and proceeded to free himself.

He stood up and walked to the victrola, removed the record and tossed it against the wall, smashing it to pieces.

Kuryakin offered his hand to help his partner up.

"I think we are even now, da?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Good. While you are thinking I am going up to medical. I have a headache from that atrocious song, as well as your singing. Do you want me to ask them for some ointment for you 'chafing?"

"Gee thanks…" He made a face.

As soon as Illya left, Napoleon reached into his desk drawer and took out another copy of Dominick the Donkey. He put in on the victrola with a smile..

"It's not _that_ bad."

.

* ref to "Kho Kho Kho"

A/N Dominick the Donkey is a Christmas song written by Ray Allen, Sam Saltzberg and Wandra Merrell, and was recorded by Lou Monte in 1960,  
The song was listed at No. 14 in _Billboard'_ s "Bubbling under the Hot 100" list in December 1960.


End file.
